


Somebody waits for you,  kiss him once for me

by GrantaireandHisBottle



Series: Why would you cry on Christmas [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Holidays are comming, M/M, enthusiastic Courfeyrac, the meaning of Xmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrantaireandHisBottle/pseuds/GrantaireandHisBottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Anyway, the idea of Christmas is silly. All the presents and plastic smiles, Christmas decorations and stupid traditions.” Grantaire is walking near Enjolras not looking at him. “But it becomes silly when you think about it. You don’t need to think about Christmas, you need to feel it. To sing it. To hug it. To realize you have a right amount of warmth in your chest for the next year.”</p><p>It is all about Christmas time and their feelings about it after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody waits for you,  kiss him once for me

**Author's Note:**

> Holidays are comming, holidays are coming!! I am so exhisted)  
> I've used some carols, because they are awesome. Just like Home Alone.
> 
> Sorry my English(

It is all about Christmas, no matter if someone likes it or afraid to make a first step, wants to hug or to cry out the aching soul. It’s Christmas, _so run, run Rudolph, a running like a son-of-a-gun_.

 

“Do you think I need to call them? We haven’t spoken for almost a year, Ferre.” Enjolras sips his tea, sitting on the bed of his friend.

Their room is bright and cozy. Courfeyrac’s enthusiasm and Combeferre’s taste have given some nice results. There is still no Christmas tree, because even Combeferre couldn’t manage to convince Enjolras that the beginning of November is the beginning of Christmas season. But on their window there are lots of little lights, which give creamy blue hints on the walls. Courfeyrac has put а mistletoe, which means when Enjolras or Combeferre enters the living-room, Courfeyrac tries to kiss them every time, singing cheerfully:

«Ho ho the mistletoe  
Hung where you can see  
Somebody waits for you  
Kiss him once for me» 

 

“Yes, I think so. It’s Christmas time and they are your parents.” Combeferre tiredly rubs his eyes. His brown hair falls on his face. “No matter what they say…”

“They’ve thrown me out of the family, because I am thinking too democratic and too…” he sighs so desperately, puts the empty cup on the floor and then leans on Combeferre’s knees. “I don’t want to call them.”

The older man runs his hand through golden curls. “It’s okay to be afraid to…”

“I am not afraid!”

“Then pick up your phone and make a call.” Combeferre is watching Enjolras with a sympathetic smile on his lips. Enjolras has thin body, almost sharp. 

Enjolras makes strange noises, hiding his face in hands, still lying on Combeferre’s knees. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow never comes.”

“I thought it was “Tomorrow never dies”.” 

“So what are you expecting me to do, Mr. Bond?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The thing about Combeferre is that he is always on a right place. He can protect, he can find out the human part in every creature. He is the brother of Logic. He is an elder brother of Enjolras. In some way. Enjolras wants him to be.

 

It is all about Christmas time and their feelings about it. 

“I am not that big on Christmas, Grantaire.”

“Now I understand why you are always so mad at me. Santa didn’t bring you presents last ten years. Wait, I’ve lost track, where is a connection between that fact and yours annoyance towards me…?”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. He is shaking from cold. They walk together from the University’s Library. Enjolras was surprised to find the Artist there. He was sitting alone with lots of books around him and a laptop on his knees. But when the cynic noticed him, he quickly closed old tomes of Art History, not allowing Enjolras to figure out anything. 

“Anyway, the idea of Christmas is silly. All the presents and plastic smiles, Christmas decorations and silly traditions.” Grantaire is walking near Enjolras not looking at him. “But it becomes silly, when you think about it. You don’t need to think about Christmas, you need to feel it. To sing it. To hug it. To realize you have a right amount of warmth for the next year.”

Grantaire is talking about Christmas with bittersweet nostalgic notes in his voice. That sound reminds Enjolras of old Bing Crosby’s classical carols. 

“I bet you have experienced lonely Christmases Eves, reading Social Contract instead of singing loudly, pissing out your neighbors. Your past does not have a single right to spoil your present Christmas. ” 

Enjolras, in a grey knitted wool cap, is looking at Grantaire, analyzing his words. The Artist only sighs heavily. “You are thinking again. And Christmas is about feeling, Apollo. You can’t explain why we all watch Home Alone every Christmas and laugh historically every time. Stop thinking, enjoy!”

They look around. Paris. Always changing, always the same. Ancient and brand new. Pessimistic and silly childish. Expensive, but with a small place for everyone. With the scents of wine and coffee, leather gloves and street noise. And now there are Christmas trees and decorations. Lovely and pride, just like Paris itself. It can be very busy, but there is always a spirit of the holiday.

Enjolras feels himself strange. For a second Paris looked strange to him. Not even strange, but new and undiscovered by him before. Then his eyes wonder at the figure near. “Why do you love Christmas?”

There is no snow around them, but its coldness has become visible in Grantaire’s eyes. “I don’t. It reminds me how deep I have fallen.”

Ember eyes hesitates. “Then, why have you…”

“Oh, for pity’s sake. Enjolras, because you can’t be that serious all year. Have a break at last. Yes, Christmas is over commercialized, but nobody gives a damn! Be bloody happy at last! Maybe these holidays you won’t look at me like if I am…” the end of the sentence dies on the pale lips of the cynic.

Enjolras winces. Grantaire sounds bitter, he doesn’t believe in Christmas, but he doesn’t care. His fingers are cold, but Enjolras can feel his pulse, beating wild under his fingers. Grantaire is tired, but he smiles. He must be bitter and cynical, yet he smiles and talks about Christmas. Even when he doesn’t believe in it. Why is it always that complicated with Grantaire. And suddenly Enjolras remembers Courfeyrac and his mistletoe operation. He must be blushing violently. 

 

It is all about Christmas time after all.

Gavroche likes Christmas. Likes the fact that he can walks around the city, singing loudly. No matter how hard his and Eponine’s life is, he is still a kid. He wants to hug Grantaire and see a normal smile on his thin lips. He is going to tickle Jehan and drives him into hysterics, smelling his long, beautiful ginger hair. He wants to admire Cosette in her beautiful dress, while she and Courfeyrac will sing Christmas medley. Gavroche and Combeferre are going to play a game, involving Eggnog, carols and Christmas can-can. 

And he will definitely appear near Grantaire and Enjolras with good and big mistletoe. 

_Because it is Christmas season, is here_  
 _Bringing good cheer_  
 _To young and old_  
 _Meek and the bold_

Gavroche sings loudly and smiles. And inside his eyes Paris is dancing.


End file.
